Saturday, February 21, 2015
I don’t want to do this anymore.
Have any other WLS patients felt this way?
I’m sick of counting and watching every single fucking morsel that goes into my mouth. I’m just over it.
In just over two weeks I’ll be at my one year surgery anniversary. I’ve lost over 100 lbs. My diabetes is in remission. My blood pressure is actually too low and accounts for the dizzy spells, fainting, and lightheadedness. I can walk two miles without losing my breath or breaking a sweat (time to walk farther?). I can stand for long periods of times. My body feels great (except for the damn hernia—that is hovering over to pain from just uncomfortable). It was a great thing to do and I don’t regret it. But I am feeling deprived as I did so many times when I tried a new diet.
I’m stressed and I can’t use food to soothe myself, calm my nerves.
I also can’t drink. Not for another year.
No soda, either, for another year.
I quit smoking nine years ago, although I have been tempted.
Sex? Not going there.
So today I was uber-pissy, moody, angry—in short, I had a snit. So I took it out on the yard. I’d been meaning to prune the giant rosebushes in the front yard, and which did not appear to have been pruned in some time. January is the time for rose pruning, but I missed it. So today I had at it. I pruned the hell out of those four mutherfuckers. I didn’t have any gloves, and my hands and arms were badly scratched. I didn’t care. It was almost a form of self harm.
Then I attacked an oleander growing over the driveway, put more birdseed in the feeder, fertilized and watered the roses, got the big hedgeclippers and trimmed pine tree that was growing into the driveway; trimmed a fruit tree of some kind that was hitting the roof of the van as we pull into the driveway—and it was so pretty with its lovely pink flowers (early!! It’s too warm for February!) into a vase and put it on the dining room table.
Then I watered the planter around the mulberry tree, weeded it, fertilized, and then scattered some California wildflower seeds. We’ll see how that goes.
By that time, I was tired and achy and I sat down with a glass of SF pineapple Crystal Light. (I purchased it over a year ago, it’s yummy and I hate to waste it although I really hate aspartame. But it hit the spot.)
The cats came over to see what I was doing and yak with me, I watched a train speed by, I listened to the wind and the quiet that is rural living in the high desert. I felt less pissy and angry—more….frustrated, perhaps, unsure, but not angry.
A woman looked at my stomach tonight, then my face, and gave me a big, “aww, how sweet” smile. I realized that she thought I was pregnant, particularly as I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass door of the restaurant we had dined at. Awesome.
The bastard hurts, annoys, and looks bad. Outstanding.
I guess I should be grateful she thought I was young enough to even BE pregnant. LOL
I had SF chocolate pudding with whipped cream for breakfast. After the butter. Nothing sounded good. The last thing I wanted was something to eat.
My husband took me to dinner at an inexpensive burger chain known for the high quality of their meat. I was going to have a double cheeseburger and take the bun off, perhaps a few fries.
I said “fuck it” and had chicken fingers with honey mustard dipping sauce, and parmesean fries with ranch dressing. I ate about half the fries.
That’s what I ate today.
And I’m gassy, bloated, and constipated. Again.
So while at the bookstore, I got a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. OMG, it was delicious. Better than sex. I ate half then, half at home.
I felt defiant, rebellious, and my stress level dropped. Of course it did.
I don’t want to do this anymore.
But what are the options?
I had major surgery, $56,000 worth pre-per-diem payment schedule for my PPO, five scars, my guts rearranged, part of my stomach removed and thrown away like garbage, so I could be healthy, and now I am, and I’m very pissed off that I can’t shove food in when I’m stressed.
I’m ridiculous. Being a human being sometimes is ridiculous.
Emotions are overrated.
I’m thinking of getting a Mary-juana card so I can relax sometimes. Of course, it will give me the munchies. I better stock up / make cheese chips if I do.
I’m a little fucked in the head right now—I’m not at my best.
I’m in bed, but I’m thinking of having something to eat. Oooh, look at the time! It’s after midnight. Where did the time go. I need to quit screwing around and go to bed. Maybe I’ll have a couple of bites of cottage cheese before I brush my teeth.